From Eyeballs to Entrails
by Susannah
Summary: Formerly 'Tempest Reigns' BuffyAngelCharmedRoswell. Very AU. Something's brewing in L.A., things are slowing in Sunnydale, illness in Roswell and cryptic messages in San Francisco... whatever can be happening?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot.

Prologue

All was calm. His apartment was dark, just the way he liked it. Angel flitted from one room to the next in a parody of a bat.

Strangely, his bathroom had a slight golden glow emanating from beneath the door. Pulsing lights, coming regularly like a heartbeat. Angel watched silently, curiosity coursing through him with each new blazing throb.

Stepping as silently as a ghost, he nervously pushed the door open, content in the knowledge that his two-hundred and forty two years of existence must have prepared him for whatever could be lurking in his own bathroom.

What he did see however was like a kick in the teeth, and, had he had a heart, it would have been doing a riotous dance. Doyle stood before him, a golden sheen seeming to roll and drip off of him.

Even aware that he was in dream, Angel knew that the metallic light had to have been a deep-rooted wish that Doyle had found peace and rest. In the cold, logical part of his brain though he knew that his late friend was probably still travelling the ghost roads.

Before Angel had time to become accustomed to the situation, worry about his mental sanity for imagining Doyle in his bathroom or dredge up any painful memories, the apparition began to speak.

"An ancient evil, it wakes." He paused, as though simply projecting his form took up effort that could not be wasted. "It will spoil the world." Doyle sighed heavily, this simple action so human, yet at the same time so very bizarre coming from a transparent ghost. A moment past, and part of Angel wondered whether he was meant to say something. Cautiously, he locked eyes with the phantom, terrified as to what he would see, the vampire was expecting nothing though, if it indeed was a figment of his imagination then the eyes would show naught, in the same way as the body could not breath and the ears couldn't hear.

There was recognition. In Doyle's eyes, he knew who Angel was, he knew where he was, and there was a ghost of a smile that showed that he knew the irony of the room he picked to appear in as well.

Angel sucked in a sharp, unneeded, breath. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Doyle held up a hand cutting him off.

"Look mate," he started, the familiarity of that much-missed voice shocking Angel to the core. "I'm here to warn you. There's this freaky evil thing which is gonna awaken, y'know the drill." He looked directly at Angel, "Things are going to change drastically," he paused, "_man." _Doyle widened his eyes meaningfully as though trying to give Angel a clue.

Angel frowned, still entirely in the dark. "How exactly are they going to change?" he asked curiously, was he in danger? _I'm always in danger, _came his mental reply.

"Look my time here is nearly up," his old sidekick replied, his speech getting faster and faster. "But people who you care about are going to be hurt." Doyle winced, as if feeling past pain.

"Cordelia?" Angel wondered out loud.

"Yes, look after her," replied Doyle softly, slowly his image was becoming softer and more translucent, fading altogether around the edges. Angel could clearly see the toilet sink through him now, and the blue-fringed ceramic tiles. "And Bu…" Without a sound, the phantasm that was Doyle vanished completely.

"Buffy?" Angel asked sharply into midair, his mind racing at the name that had not graced his lips for so long, but frequently touched his thoughts.

Without warning a blinding light assaulted his sensitive eyes. For a moment he thought that Doyle may have returned, but the light got brighter than was humanly possible, dispersing throughout the bathroom, causing Angel to squint and fight the urge to cover his eyes. Soon, everything was concealed by the light, no shapes were visible, nothing to show that he was still standing in his own dream-bathroom, although he knew he must be because he hadn't felt any movement to depict otherwise.

From nowhere, and at the same time everywhere at once voices began to resound. It was as if they were speaking, through him, into him, vibrating into his very bones and back again. It was very disorientating.

_"You and four others, your strengths you will lose,_

_You must give them up for another, at the end you must choose._

_All in good time the future divine will show you that you do not need them._

_Friendship is needed if you want to endure,_

_Love is a virtue for it is pure."_

The incantation-like tune echoed through his, the rhythm pumping with that of his heart.

_Hang on, my heart?_

Abruptly he woke in the soft confines of his own bed, taking deep essential breaths into his lungs. His heart pumped furiously, beating insanely inside his chest as though trying to make up for lost years.

_What the fuck happened?_

His brain immediately turned to analysis of the strange dream; life had turned quite upside down in nothing more than a heartbeat. Heartbeat being the operative word. He'd spoken with Doyle again, it was strange to think that the presence of his old-friend was not just his imagination, but then again it could have been. You could never be too certain in the kind of life he lived. And now it seemed that he would actually be living it.

_Where are Cordelia and Wesley when you need them?_

They were going to have to do some major research.

Spike awoke sharply, already disintegrating memories of blinding lights and strange charms ricocheting around his head. Daylight attempted to intrude through the dusky, blocked up windows. Damn, he must have really overslept.

The dream already banished from his thoughts he got up, too restless to stay still another second, the desire to do something, anything, pounded through him like the strong diaphragm of a speaker playing really loud music. He hadn't been this energetic since he couldn't remember when.

In between his pacing and cursing he managed to knock the bottle of holy water, kept especially for uninvited guests, flying down his front.

Cursing fluently and artistically he waited expectantly for the familiar hissing and burning sensation. Nothing.

"Bloody faulty Holy Water," he cursed, shattering the bottle against the opposite wall.

On its trajectory from his hand a sharp edged nicked his finger. Curiously he watched as blood welled from it, a pinprick of pain sprouting through. It would heal in a minute though, good thing about being a vampire.

Thing was, it didn't.

Slowly he began to connect the dots, red, thick, healthy blood (that he had no desire to eat), 'non-working' Holy Water… an energetic pounding in his chest… almost like a heartbeat…

_"_Holy _shit."_

The night had been eventful for Oz. For the first time the Werewolf Reworking had had an effect on him. For some reason though Teresa did not share his happiness (however understated it may seem).

"It wasn't me," she repeated over and over.

"Of course it was you," he had replied, slightly worried at her strange behaviour. Naturally not letting it show.

But she had cried and clung to him like a wet rag, her red hair - well auburn hair - catching on his clothes, forcibly reminding of someone he knew long ago. Someone he knew in another lifetime.

He sighed, leaning back on the chair and crossing his arms behind his neck in a universal position of relaxation. The success of the Werewolf Reworking was a giant step for all of them; maybe he'd be raised to Instructor levels amongst the other Reformers. Oz didn't think he'd like that, he preferred being a student to being a teacher. Teaching was too much work, like tutoring in high school. Another link to a forgotten era.

He shook his now ebony head, and patiently watched the sun work its way over the horizon, keeping his mind firmly off the time before.


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot.

Chapter One

The Halliwells were doing some spring-cleaning. In between fighting evil, saving the world and concealing the fact they were witches, they were actually quite normal people.

The hallway was cluttered with boxes, old pieces of paper, books and vegetables, for some reason.

"Does Prue know we have eight, black, broken umbrellas?" inquired Phoebe, the youngest, curiously. "Or more to the point, does she know why we're keeping them?"

Piper appeared out of the closet to Phoebe's right carrying a lot of very thick, bound books. Unceremoniously depositing them on the side-table both sisters eyed them inquisitively.

"Twelve," said Piper as a way of explanation. Phoebe cast her a strange look. "Twelve picture albums."

Phoebe reached out to open one but Piper cut her off. "No, see that's the strange thing, not a single photo in them."

"They were Grams'," Prue, the oldest sister, announced from the doorway. "You remember what she always used to say about photos."

"Yes," agreed Piper, fiddling with her long, dark hair. " 'You can never have too many photos girls, you can never have too many memories,' " she intoned, doing a passable impression of their late grandmother.

All three sisters smiled tenderly, unconsciously mirroring one another.

There was a sharp, no nonsense, rap on the door. Piper pricked up.

"That'll be Dan," she said absently to no one in particular. Phoebe watched her older sister thoughtfully, wondering why she didn't sound happier that her boyfriend was on the doorstep. Piper opened the door almost cautiously, a smile already painted on her features. The youngest sister couldn't see Dan, as the stained-glass door was blocking him from view.

Dan placed a chaste, sweet kiss on her lips coming into stand (rather awkwardly) in the lobby.

"So what brings you here?" asked Piper after a moment's pause.

"Had nothing to do, and I remembered you saying you were doing some spring cleaning. Thought you could use some help."

Inside, Phoebe melted. Despite the fact that the spring-cleaning was originally going to be some sister bonding, the fact that Piper's boyfriend cared so much was just damn sweet.

The youngest sister pointed to a box. "If you could take that box of…" She peered into it. "Beer-mats into the living room."

Dan easily picked up the box that had taken all three sisters to cart from the closet and moved it into the next room.

There was a second's hiatus as the three sisters looked at each other thoughtfully and surveyed the chaos of their hallway.

"Is it… _meant _to be doing that?" came a voice, somewhat plaintively, from the adjacent room.

Prue, Piper and Phoebe moved cautiously into the sitting room across the squeaky floorboards.

Dan was staring nervously at the table where the Ouiji Board was moving. After a second of silence whilst the sisters absorbed this fact Phoebe slammed her hand down on it, saying the first thing that came into her mind.

"It's remote-controlled you see. Except we – er – lost the controller."

Dan, Prue and Piper just stared at her in bemusement, although for different reasons. Phoebe felt the pointer move independently beneath her hand again.

"Ha! I win!" announced Anya triumphantly.

Xander sighed, patiently. "Anya, love, you can't 'win' at origami."

"Can too," pouted the ex-demon defiantly. "Look mine's way better than Buffy or Willow's"

"But theirs are meant to be swans and yours is meant to be…" Xander tailed off uncertainly. What exactly was hers meant to be anyway?

"It's a frog," replied his girlfriend huffily in a tone that added a silent 'duh' to the end.

Willow and Buffy exchanged looks across the table. They really needed some demons to fight or _something,_ because they'd resorted to _origami _of all things. A pastime that Anya had efficiently managed to turn into a competitive sport. Somehow.

Giles bustled out of the kitchen, fixing them with a look that clearly said 'why are you still here?' Willow smiled apologetically.

"Oh, hey, look! It's getting dark! Maybe we should go and patrol?" her sentence went up at the end hopefully, anything to get away from Giles' fixed gazes and Anya's temper tantrums.

Buffy smiled, entirely understanding where her friend was coming from. "Well, there hasn't been much to slay since the end of the Initiative, but I guess it wouldn't hurt."

Giles hastily nodded his agreement before wordlessly burying himself in a rather impressive sized tome. Light-reading Buffy supposed.

"I don't want to," sulked Anya. "I don't think we should go," she told Xander.

Xander felt all three women's eyed turn on him. Whatever he said next would get him on the wrong side of one sect.

"I think I might get some fresh air too," he answered quickly, trying to keep the stammer out of his voice. His girlfriend could be a bit scary when the mood took her, must be something to do with the years of wreaking chaos on men.

The ex-watcher looked up sharply a don't-leave-me-with-her look pasted all over his face. Xander shrugged apologetically, struggling to ignore the death glares he was getting from Anya. He followed the vivid red and light blonde of Buffy and willow to the door of the apartment, wondering why it was always him who managed to get stuck in the middle.

That evening the cages were lined up as always. The familiar two-metre spacing from one to the next. Oz followed the sombre line between the cages, seeing people he knew by sight and smell but not the name of. He didn't acknowledge them though, the Awakening was always meant to be silent.

Awakening. Such a delicate word for such a violent process. The awakening of the wolf, the embracing of their other halves. Oz shook his head, there was nothing enlightening about the change that took place every month, surrounded by werewolves, they all agreed on this. It was painful, terrifying, familiar, but it certainly wasn't elegant.

He sat in the habitual cage; between two acquaintances he'd made a couple of weeks back. Here, they knew him as Nathaniel. That was all they needed to know, not his last name, not his past, nothing. There was Nate to his left and Nivella to his right.

The Alphas thought that they should see the full moon as they changed, see the beginning of the pain and witness the roundness of their curse. And so they waited, silently in their little four-by-four cages, watching the light slip to the horizon on its endless migration around the world. As soon as the first edge of the moon began to appear over the curve of the horizon – it was big tonight – the first screams of pain echoed from the first lines of the enclosure formation.

Around him Oz felt the changes take place, the recurring growls, and the crunching of bone on bone, muscle to muscle. But even as he waited for what he knew was coming the first seeds of curiosity were sown. Moonlight spattered, unhindered, over his hand. It was weird, knowing that something should be happening, he was all amped for the change and yet felt nothing.

The strangeness washed over him in waves, all around him people – who in the light of day were perfectly normal – had transformed into bloodthirsty beasts, slamming against the walls of their cages. They could smell him, smell his human blood.

He'd never been on the outside looking in before.

Liz was reading. Well, at least that was what it was meant to look like; she was actually watching Michael Guerin. As a pastime this actually turned out to be very boring indeed.

Maria was going to owe her big time. After yet another argument between the two temperamental teenagers they'd reached the point where they studiously ignored each other when in the same place, but behind one another's backs they wanted to know everything.

Hence the watching; Maria wanted to know whether Michael had found anyone else.

As far as Liz could tell he hadn't. But then there wasn't much socialising that could be done in detention.

She felt rather than saw Max sit down next to her and quickly snapped her eyes onto her book diligently.

"You know it's upside down right?"

Liz felt her cheeks colour slightly before turning to face her boyfriend. "What do you want Max?" she asked, the familiar softness creeping into her tone whenever she spoke to him.

"Maybe to know why you're watching Michael?" His voice was light but Liz hadn't missed the flash of jealousy in his eyes.

She smiled. "Maria." That was all he needed in way of explanation.

He sighed in relief. "Was a bit worried there," he smiled self-consciously.

"Of Michael?" Liz giggled. "I can't really see that happening, can you?"

The dark-haired alien shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."

It was true, they had.

Liz felt her stomach clench painfully. It had been doing that a lot lately. At first she had chalked it up to 'that time of the month', but now it couldn't be. She hadn't told anyone, not even Maria, figuring that it was only a stomachache; the whole world didn't need to know about it. Now though, it was getting more and more painful and frequent. It was beginning to worry her slightly.

"What's wrong?" asked Max, ever the worried boyfriend.

Liz hesitated before answering. "Nothing, nothing at all." But she didn't meet his eyes and she didn't miss the calculating look he gave her.


	3. Chapter Two

Time Twist: you'd think that wouldn't you? But it took me ages to find 'crossovers' -blushes and hides-

Thank you for your reviews Imzadi, BAshipper, Time Twist, Jami, Actrez, Evanescence2037 and Big mak!

Disclaimer: I own nothing (you know the drill).

Chapter Two

Buffy meandered through the graveyard, content with listening to her two best friends banter.

"Men are not animals!" exclaimed Xander indignantly.

"I seem to remember a time when someone who shall not be named turned into a hyena," Willow replied calmly.

"And that's even excluding the same unmentionable person's bizarre attractive qualities to other-worldly beings such as… praying mantis' for example?" Buffy joined in, feeling a smirk spread across her face.

"Oh, gang up on me why don't you!" Xander put on his best 'puppy dog eyes' look. "And those are such _past_ events, I can't believe you'd even dig them up!"

"Who's digging who up?" asked a familiar voice from behind them.

The three friends rolled their eyes simultaneously.

"What do you want Spike?" Buffy asked turning to face him wearily a mild amount of worry starting in her stomach that she hadn't sensed him coming. "Run out of fags?"

He looked at her curiously. "No, smoking kills you."

"Ha ha," agreed Xander.

"No actually I was out taking a wander and thought I'd see what's new with the Scoobies."

"Who are you and what have you done with Spike?" Willow piped up. Xander and Buffy nodded in agreement.

Spike huffed. "Fine, I won't even bother."

"Spike behind you!" Buffy exclaimed, surprising even herself.

The platinum haired Briton ducked just in time, the blow sweeping across where his head had been just seconds before.

Then Buffy was there all flying fists, feet and power. Spike remembered how that had impressed him the first time he'd laid eyes on her. Even at rest she possessed the dangerous undercurrent that made a person – vampire or otherwise – look at her twice. But then there was little time for much thought as a well-aimed kick sent him skittering away.

* * *

Angel took a deep breath and counted to ten. Very slowly.

"Cordy, I'm not saying he's back… I'm just saying he's not totally gone."

Cordelia Chase sat straight-backed and cross-legged facing him. "Well good! Because, y'know, I was just starting to move my life along. I don't want those damn Powers that Be messing it up again."

"Me neither." Angel replied gently, spotting the defence mechanism a mile away.

They both trailed off into silence.

"So what's the plan of action Angel? What are we going to do with the new humanity?"

"I guess we just research, find out if anything like this has happened before." At Cordelia's look he quickly added "Other than to me of course."

"What I don't understand," started Wesley, entering through the doors behind them carrying a huge book in his hands, "is why, if there's a big evil coming, they've taken away the only thing that allowed you to fight it."

"Who's 'they?" Cordelia inquired.

"Well, I mean it's not entirely certain," Wesley bustled. "But I think our best bet is that's it's the Powers that Be of course."

Angle thought about this for a second. "But like you just said, why would they idly knock off their best warrior?" he wondered slowly. "Maybe it's something beyond their control."

Cordelia and Wesley pondered this. "That's not a nice thought," the Englishman answered, his expression bleak.

* * *

The Alphas looked grim. Teresa was explaining what had happened during the full moon, how their training had not shown any answers, and yet he was not changing.

_But then, _Oz thought, _they always looked grim._

"Do you feel the Wolf still inside you Nathaniel?" asked Roslyn, addressing Oz directly. Roslyn was a senior Alpha with shockingly white hair down to her waist and brightest green eyes Oz had ever seen.

"Yes," Oz replied truthfully, "but it feels as though it is sleeping, or hibernating, or something."

The Alphas muttered among themselves for a while until eventually the appeared to come to a conclusion.

Theodore stood up, commanding silence of the whole room. "Based on what we have been told by Nathaniel and his trainers, we have concluded that this is something that is outside of our influence. We cannot help you to understand this phenomenon as we do not have the means to, but we will send you to Gabrielle, the Medium and soothsayer, and she will tell you what you will have to do. Her word is final and must be obeyed."

Following ritual, the twelve Alpha members then stood up simultaneously, and filed out of the conference hall.

Oz followed them with his eyes, feeling a dead weight in his stomach.

He was going to be cast out, he knew it. Cast out from the second place that he ever felt he belonged in.

* * *

"So there's no one else? I knew it!" Maria gloated slightly. "He's too weird for anyone but me to handle. It's just a fact of nature."

Liz and Maria were sprawled across Liz' room, Liz reading a book about the inspiration behind George Orwell's novels – a British writer – and Maria painting her toenails a vivid orange.

"I don't think nature even comes into it," Liz remarked, not looking up from her page.

"That's true," agreed Maria, admiring the lurid colour her feet had become. "Do you think rules of nature even apply aliens? I mean they're not exactly organic are they."

Liz nodded absently in agreement, she felt the familiar gurgling pains begin in her stomach. This wasn't good, she had to get Maria out of there before she guessed something was up.

As she started wracking her brains though, the situation developed into being even more difficult. Max and Michael appeared at the top of the wall, climbing somewhat awkwardly over the top. Liz took one look from Maria to Michael to Max and bolted.

"I have to go to the loo," she muttered, disappearing.

Max stuck his head through the window. "Something I did?" he asked Maria, who just shrugged. She studied the door that Liz had just left by curiously.

* * *

_Sorry about the awful wait. And I know it really was an insanely long time for this one! But I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope more will be on it's way soon._

_Happy New Year to all! _

_Xx Susannah xx_


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